Almost
by aparigis
Summary: Four letters should not take so much effort to say.


It had been illogical, nonsensical, and just plain irresponsible.

And somehow, despite the percentage of survival rate being .0014, they had managed to survive.

_Somehow._

In the sickbay, Spock had not heard much of what McCoy said when he'd carried Nyota in.

"Foolish girl... just plain stupid..." but his hands shook when he prepared the reconstructive surgery to her intestines. He was just as afraid as everyone else had been.

Casualties were to be expected aboard a vessel such as the _Enterprise_ but it would never ease the blow of losing anyone. For this particular crew, they had become family. Traveling together for three years had proven it so.

"Commander," McCoy gave Spock a once over and sighed, "I think you should get rest. We won't know the state of Lt. Uhura's condition for a few hours. Rest is the greatest healing factor. You know that."

"I do not wish to leave her side," his voice was oddly soft having just lost control not long ago.

"You should at least get yourself cleaned up," McCoy's voice was patient, not the usual irritated tone he had when injured crewmembers came to his sickbay.

Spock looked down and was greeted with the sight of blood staining his blue uniform. His hands were covered in blood, too. He lifted his head and gazed at Dr. McCoy, then shifted his eyes to the sleeping Nyota, then back to he doctor. McCoy said nothing but bowed his head with a curt nod and left them alone.

He sat in the chair closest to her bed and placed his hands in his lap. He could not turn to look at her, though he tried. But he failed. Each glance in her direction reminded him of the sacrifice she'd made, not just for the team of Starfleet but for him as well. Too afraid the small link they did have would not be there, he couldn't bring herself to touch her.

His argument was that the life of a captain had been much more valuable than that of a commander.

Her counter-argument was that the life of a commander had been just as more valuable than that of a lieutenant.

And as he shouted the words "_**NO**_" she collapsed in his arms, from both the blast aimed for him and the impact of it.

It took approximately one second to turn her around and wrap his arms protectively around her. It took approximately 1.032 seconds to aim his phaser at the target and fire.

"Nyota," her name came out like a whisper on his lips. She seemed so much lighter than usual. Perhaps it was from the blast.

"Nyota, _why_...?"

Of course he knew why. Such a question had no reason to be asked but it did not stop him.

Her eyes were so dark and round, he often found them to be one of the biggest distractions and true enough, Nyota Uhura herself was enough distraction as it was.

She coughed and his own panic established. Blood had settled on her lips now and her eyes were beginning to glaze over.

"I..." Her nervous system was dedicating time to the wound she received. It would be difficult for her to speak.

"Do not..." his sentence fell short as she coughed again. His fingers were covered in her blood but he placed his them on her temple and she closed her eyes.

_Can't lose you. I love you._

Six words. Six words and he was shouting for Mr. Scott to beam them as soon as possible. He could hear more incoming fire but at this point all he could think of was Nyota. He had been facing the reluctance of bonding with her mere days ago. They did not discuss it as much but she was patient, telling him she would do it but only if they were both "one hundred percent ready" and now... now it would be too late.

His mind called out to her but she was no longer responding. She was fading much faster than anticipated. He hadn't realized he was yelling until he'd felt Nurse Rand's hand grasp his arm and he could suddenly hear himself shouting. She silently told him that they would in fact try their hardest to make sure Lt. Uhura was safe. They were kind and warm and assuring him that they were getting to her as fast as they could.

Now as he sat next to her in the sickbay he'd made the decision to tell her. So many times she'd wanted to say it to him and he'd known it but he neither encouraged her nor stopped her.

Had he been afraid of hearing her say those words?

His human emotions took so much control now, it was disconcerting. Losing his mother and home made him so vulnerable with passing time.

"I cannot lose you, too," he stated softly, looking down at the blood on his hands.

"I have," he hesitated for a moment and breathed out slowly, "no one else who will..."

Love.

Love was the word.

Love was the word he couldn't say.

There had been many times he'd felt it there, around them, in the air, floating in the space between them, hanging on the tip of his tongue and the edge of his mind.

_Love_.

He could not lose her because he had no else who would love him the way she loved him.

He could not lose her because he loved her.

Why had he not said these words to her when he had so many opportunities?

"I cannot lose you, Nyota. I..."

He lifted his hand from his lap, dried blood settled in the crevices between his fingers. It didn't stop him from gingerly taking hers in his and giving it a soft squeeze.

"I love you," he whispered.

Very faintly, her voice sounding so far away - in her mind, in his mind, their minds...

_I love you, too._


End file.
